by Ivy Asher
“Uhhh, what are you doing?” I ask them after a couple of minutes of weird ass staring at my marks.
“We’re reading your contract, Countess,” one of the demons squeaks.
Countess?
I’m taken aback by the title, but I suppose it makes sense. I look over to Rogan and wag my eyebrows at him. “I think I found a cutesy couple pet name that doesn’t make me cringe,” I inform him, and he chuckles and rolls his eyes.
“Does that mean I’ll have to go by the Count?” he asks, appalled.
“Please,” I scoff. “You haven’t earned that title. Go get your own demon magic,” I challenge, and he cracks up. “You think I have a castle somewhere in the UK that comes with this title?” I ask thoughtfully.
“No, but I have a stinky dog and a stinkless skunk back home who will be happy to see you, if that entices you to move into my place,” he counters, and I crack up.
“Throw in coffee and orgasms whenever I want them, and you, sir, have yourself a deal,” I tell him, and his smile melts my damn heart.
“Done,” he agrees, and what do you know, our smiles match.
“I want to speak to the High Demons alone,” Sorrel demands. “I have reason to believe that this witch is tricking you, and if you’ll just give me a moment, I can prove it.”
“The contracts are valid,” the twins squeak, and I’m suddenly flung forward out of the chair and back on to my feet.
Fucking hell, why do I feel like a demon-led NASCAR pit crew just came at me?
Rogan catches me and keeps me from face planting, and I offer him a grateful smile.
“I said I want to speak to the High Demons alone,” Sorrel screeches, and the High Demons all look at me for a response. “Don’t look at her, I’m speaking to you. I’m the fucking High Priestess of—”
“You’re the fucking High Priestess of nothing,” I bellow at her, and she flinches with shock. “What do you not understand about the fact that I own your useless soul? I watched a psychopath, that you created by the way, torture your son, and he whined a hell of a lot less than you. Shut the hell up and die with some dignity, you fucking coward,” I snap, fed up with the entitled commands and delusional rants.
“Countess, would you like us to silence the cage?” one of the yellow twins asks me.
“Oh, I can do that?” I ask, surprised and a little embarrassed.
I didn’t know I could choose the mute option.
I turn to Rogan. “I think I’ve reached the hangry part of my cycle,” I admit, and he laughs.
“Good to know, but on the plus side, only one more phase and it’s cuddle slut time,” he announces as though we’re almost home free.
“We have silenced the cage and will keep it that way until the procedure is over. Would you like to be present for the soul retrieval or simply informed when it’s complete?” the yellow twins query in unison, as though we’re not talking about snatching souls like it’s no big deal.
First bodies and now souls. Oh dear, I think I’m escalating.
I shake my head at myself. What is this world even doing to me?
I think about what Rogan said about Elon and having seen enough bad things in life. I look over at him, and he nods in the way that tells me he’s good to do whatever I want to do.
The glass of the cage rattles slightly as Sorrel pounds on it furiously. She screams and snarls, her eyes so full of hate and her face contorted with rage. Venom pours out of her mouth, and I’m grateful I can’t hear the vitriol being spewed at me right now. My eyes land on the Contegomancer, Bordow. His face is swollen, and bruises are starting to mottle the skin of his cheek and jaw from where I hit him. He looks resigned but completely unremorseful as he turns to say something to Rogan’s dad. The High Priest doesn’t respond; he just stares blankly at a pile of bones as though they have all the answers. Maybe they do, I know how much a pouch of bones changed my life for the better.
I take a deep breath and then let it out slowly, turning away from the evil in the cage once and for all.
“Just let me know when it’s done,” I tell the twins, and then, as easy as blinking, they disappear, taking the glass cage with them.
“How do you know they’ll do it?” Rogan asks, eyeing the cage’s former spot warily.
“Look at the marks,” I tell him simply. “If my marks disappear, then the contract is fulfilled. If they don’t, I’ll know something is up,” I tell him, and he considers that.
“Seems like a solid system,” he agrees after a beat. “Where to now?”
I smile at him sweetly as I feel for the magic that everyone keeps using to get in and out of here. “Let’s go home.”
24
I yawn and lean back against Rogan as he lazily plays with my hair. He wraps a strong arm around my chest, and I tuck the soft as fuck blanket around me a little tighter, feeling all kinds of warm and cozy, and relishing the fact that I’m all kinds of warm and cozy.
I seriously need to ask Rogan where he gets all this soft crap from.
“Just tell me one more time what happened when you told her you owned her contract?” Elon asks, and he just looks so damn adorable and peaceful as he does, that I have no choice but to give him what he wants.
“She didn’t believe it at first. She tried to throw her weight around, but it wasn’t until Lennox stuck out her foot and told her to ‘look at the marks’ and Bordow looked at his mark, that’s when she started to stammer what and then how, and then she called on her magic, trying to get all threatening, so the other demons locked them up in a cage,” Rogan recounts, and I stare bleary eyed at the fire crackling in the fireplace and try hard not to think about anything.
Elon laughs at the cage part, and for whatever reason, it makes me want to laugh too.
“Fitting that the efforts she went to in order to lock me and Rogan in a cage, is what ultimately led her to dying in one. If that’s not a slice of justice, I don’t know what is,” Elon declares, his laugh now slightly hollow.
My heart tightens as I watch him get lost in thoughts for a moment, and I can only wonder at the demons darkening his door right now. I know none of this is easy for him or for Rogan, but I also know the rest of us will do everything we can to protect them.
I look over at Prek and Tad on the couch, and I can hear Cohen upstairs packing so he can head out. I think his hurry has something to do with Diem and maybe wanting to track down Colby, but I don’t ask him. If any of them need anything from me, they’ll track me down.
“Anyway, after the demon checked my blood and confirmed I had demon magic, they read through the details of the contracts. Did you guys know that the contract between a demon and someone else is actually written in the demon mark itself? Then the shape made by the lines in a contract is based on the demon’s magical signature and the other person’s magical signature. Cool, right?” I tell them, but no one seems to be as into it as I am—I blame the demon magic.
“I think it’s cool,” Rogan whispers in my ear, and I smile widely at him and then settle in against his chest again.
“Man, I wish I could have been there,” Elon sighs, staring wistfully at the high ceiling, like he’s picturing every word that we’re saying.
“I’m pretty sure I shit my panties at least five times before they pulled Rogan down, and I honestly thought that was it for all of us. It was brutal, so don’t let the semi-happy ending fool you,” I reassure him, and he offers me a soft, understanding grin.
“Semi-happy?” Prek asks, looking from Tad to me.
I make a mental note to ask Tad about that. I swear I’ve caught both of them staring all moony-eyed when the other one isn’t looking.
“She’s grumpy because before they would let us leave, the High Demon Cozen insisted that Lennox had to come train with her twice a week until she mastered her demon magic,” Rogan teases, and I scoff like a petulant teenager.
“I hate school, and I’m a super busy person, so it’s just really inconvenient,” I whine, and everyo
ne chuckles at my expense.
“I can’t believe it’s over,” Elon states pensively, and we all kind of float on that thought for a moment.
“There’s still a lot of political moves to be made in the next year as the mancer community recovers. Our smear campaign did its job, which is great, but it’s going to take a lot of time to bounce back and rebuild from the level of corruption that was uncovered. The news says the High Council high-rise was pretty fucked up after that angry mob got done with it. Reports are saying that Sorrel and her two right-hand men are on the run, which will embolden some of their supporters,” Rogan points out.
“Good, let it embolden them. Makes it easier to cut them out like the cancers they are. People have their eyes open now, and they’re not going to tolerate the same crap as before. There will be elections and hopefully a lot of changes in the near future. And of course, we’ll all be there to try to steer things in the right direction,” Elon declares.
“Well, not us, we’re still renounced. Once a renounced witch, always a renounced witch,” Rogan states like he’s reciting a famous slogan.
“You don’t think they’ll lift it?” Tad asks, confused.
“No, we’d have to tell them what really happened, and there’s no chance in hell I’m risking that information. Between that and keeping a lid on how Lennox got demon magic, we’ve got plenty of secrets to protect, which means we stick to the shadows and keep our noses out of things,” Rogan tells him, a tired chuckle punctuating his words.
“Fair point,” Tad concedes, sneaking a quick look over at Prek.
Yep. There’s definitely something going on there.
Another bone-tingling yawn takes over me, and I feel Rogan laugh against my back. I’m enjoying the catch-up session as we all wind down and try to decompress, but I’m so tired I feel like I could sleep for a week. And now that we don’t have a war to fight, I’m really hoping I can.
“What did Riggs say when you called him to tell him the war was off?” Elon asks Rogan.
“He was oddly bummed out,” he admits with a deep laugh. “Several of the packs were ready to go balls to the wall against the High Council. Riggs said leave it to Lennox to steal everyone’s thunder.”
I laugh and shake my head. “You know what they say: no balls, no babies,” I declare, pretending to be all macho and savior-like.
“What? Who says that?” Prek demands, looking at me like I’ve lost it.
“Wait. You want babies?” Elon adds, a cheeky smirk on his face.
I blush and immediately start panicking. “What? No. I didn’t say anything about me wanting babies, it’s a saying,” I defend.
“That is definitely not a saying,” Tad taunts, totally calling me out.
“I mean, if you want us involved in discussing such an important decision, just say so. You don’t have to make up a saying and make things all awkward,” Elon jokes.
I flip everyone the bird and then turn to Rogan. “I didn’t say shit about wanting babies,” I reassure him, and he shrugs, not bothering to hide the amused glint in his eyes.
I get up off the couch and shoot everyone a glare. “I am going to bed, and each and every one of you can fuck right off. Also, I would just like to point out that in the future, when I save all of your asses, you can thank me with soft clothes and blankets and your undying love and devotion.”
“Naturally,” Tad scoffs like that’s already a done deal, and I give him a wink before abandoning them all and fleeing for the comfort of a hot shower and a soft bed.
“I’m going too,” Rogan announces, which is peppered by a series of sniggers.
We make it to the bottom of the stairs, and then Prek yells, “Don’t forget: no balls, no babies!”
Laughter erupts from the living room, and I bury my face in my hands in total mortification.
“And just when I was starting to like that guy,” I grumble, my cheeks on fire. “I swear that’s a saying,” I tell Rogan over my shoulder, and he just laughs and swats my ass as I start up the stairs. “I’m not even close to thinking about kids, okay? I want you to know that, just in case you’re silently screaming inside and freaking out.”
“I’m not,” he tells me evenly, but I don’t miss the mirth twinkling in his eyes.
“Good, because neither am I.”
“Yeah, you just said that,” he points out, and a cheeky smile slinks slowly across his face.
“I don’t even think I want kids. Plus, the whole immortal thing, that doesn’t exactly work as a parent. Plus, we just won a war, and we’re still getting to know each other.”
“I thought you weren’t thinking about it,” Rogan teases.
“I’m not, obviously. I’m absolutely not thinking about it.”
“Noted,” he states, grabbing onto my hips when we get to the top of the stairs and holding on to me as we make our way to the room. “Go start the shower, and I’ll meet you in there. There’s something I have to do real quick,” he tells me, and I nod on a yawn.
I get the water molten and then strip down and step under the spray. I stand there and let the hot water melt away the worst of my fears and worries and all of the stress and concern still clinging to my skin. I wash and condition my hair and then scrub my body until it’s almost raw. I watch as the soap sluffs off me, bubbles and water dripping down my feet and swirling toward the drain.
I trace my now demon-mark-free skin, thinking of the three souls now locked away in a demon vault that I really hope in my heart looks like Gringotts. I mean, there were dragon bones in that trial room, so the chances are...honestly, still pretty low, but still a girl’s gotta dream.
So much has happened and all so incredibly fast. I’m on my third attempt to process it all when Rogan finally joins me. He steps in behind me, and I’m reminded of the insane level of attraction I felt the first time his body was pressed up against mine like this. I turn around so that my nipples can skim the hard planes of his torso as we simply stand together, our bodies caressing the other’s as we just breathe in and out.
I watch him soap up his hair and body, reveling in the intimacy and the fact that I’m totally perving out. If someone would have told me when we first met that we’d eventually get here, I’d have said sign me the fuck up. Even if they had warned me about all the awful, scary, traumatic shit I’d have to go through to be standing here ogling this man, knowing he’s mine, I wouldn’t have hesitated for a second. I also would have never admitted any of this to anyone for any reason, but it doesn’t matter because all the shit happened and now I’m here, eye-fucking the love of my life.
“If you keep looking at me that way, we’re never going to make it out of the shower, and I had big plans for when we got out of the shower,” Rogan purrs at me.
I shamelessly watch as the water flows freely down his hard chest, past his cut abs, dips into his yummy Adonis belt, and then drips off his hardening cock.
“Looking at you like what?” I tease, my eyes languidly sliding up his body, pausing on his lips and then rising to meet his eyes.
“Like a demon who wants my soul,” he tells me, and I immediately scrunch my nose in rejection of that suggestion. “Too soon?” he asks.
“Way too fucking soon,” I agree on a laugh. “You have to stick to that romance novel shit and say something like you’re looking at me like you want to eat me,” I encourage.
He rinses off and shakes his head, a deep chuckle rumbling out of him and settling deep in my belly.
“Well then, come over here so I can eat you.”
You don’t have to ask me twice. Bon appetit.
I jump at him without missing a beat, but I don’t anticipate how slippery the water has made us, and we both almost go down. I’m screaming and then laughing as Rogan almost pulls a muscle trying to keep me from killing us both. Wouldn’t that be a story: Remember that time we both died because I leapt without thinking in the shower?
Never leap without thinking in the shower.
That’s going u
p there with “never date a man with two first names” and “always trust the bones.”
I cling to Rogan’s neck, terrified and completely amused. “That’s my bad,” I offer him as he grunts and readjusts my body against his. “Let’s just move this to the bedroom like you originally planned,” I tell him, eyeing the wood beam above us and promising myself that one day I’ll hold on to it while I ride Rogan’s face.
“That might be best, you know, for safety reasons,” he ribs as he reaches behind us and turns the water off.
My smile is huge as I slide down Rogan’s body to grab a towel and dry off. He watches me like he can’t get enough of me, and it’s making me feel fucking amazing.
“I gotta say,” I tell him as I hurry to put product in my hair so it doesn’t frizz out, “this whole hero worship thing you’ve got going on is working for me,” I razz, throwing in an eyebrow waggle for good measure.
He barks out a loud long laugh that I feel keenly between my thighs.
“I take it back, that gorgeous laugh is now what’s doing it for me,” I amend, and he stalks toward me in that way that makes me want to get all squealy.
“You fucking do it for me, Lennox,” he declares simply, and I feel the passion in those words all the way down to my toes.
“Let’s get our tether on!” I announce, so ready to get our connection back to where it’s supposed to be.
Rogan laughs hard again, closing the distance between us and pulling me out of the bathroom. “Get our tether on?” he questions, and I cringe.
“Yeah, it sounded cooler in theory,” I admit, following after him and getting wet just at the thought of all the orgasms I know are about to go down.
We clear the bathroom doorway, and Rogan steps aside to reveal a room covered in lit candles. White pillar candles in all shapes and sizes dot every surface except the bed and floor, while the huge windows reflect the flickers of candlelight, and it makes it look like we’re completely surrounded by warm, incandescent light.
“It’s gorgeous,” I gasp, loving the effort and the ambiance it creates.